


So It Was A Shitty Joke

by Pepperwench



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Swearing, pet death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:42:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25286290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepperwench/pseuds/Pepperwench
Summary: Jim frowned. "How much sleep have you been getting?" He asked, forcing a casual tone.Sebastian scowled. "Don't change the subject." Jim was looking, fuzzy. A little blurry.
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	So It Was A Shitty Joke

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit that I took from the rp I do with my best friend and expanded upon to practise writing :) this is my first fic since I was thirteen and the first one I've ever finished so any feedback is appreciated!! 
> 
> TW for mentions of pet death

Mmm, it was, pretty fucking cold.

Thank god it wasn't windy. These shitty gas station disposable lighters would refuse to light in the best of circumstances, and Sebastian had already used just about all of this one. If there was even the slightest breeze it probably wouldn't light. He held the cheap purple plastic underneath the end of his cigarette and hoped for the best.

…fuck. He tried again, nothing. Just spitting. Third try didn't yield any results either. If he wasn't in such a messed up headspace he would've taken it as a sign from above that he shouldn't be smoking right now. His hands were getting numb. It was fucking freezing. He tried again. Success! He took a drag and shoved the hand with the lighter into his pocket, leaning back against the dumpster. It was snowing. Sebastian laughed bitterly. God, this would've been pretty if it wasn't such a fucking hindrance. He only had a thin, shitty windbreaker that he'd pulled off of some kid he'd knifed in a pub bathroom the other day. He was probably, twenty. A little coked out. Bright future. He definitely didn't deserve to die, on paper at least. Sebastian smiled. That was just how shit went. 

He looked at the wall of the alley in front of him. It was hard to think about shit - he hadn't slept in fifty-three hours, and the last time he'd slept anywhere that wasn't a pub floor was, fuck, when did he get kicked out? Nine days ago. It was hard to think about shit. He was running on residual bitterness and pure nihilism. He took another drag and winced. The bruises from last week weren't really doing much to keep him awake anymore, most of them had faded, even the nasty ones. He'd fell pretty hard when Jim had pushed him though, and napping in uncomfortable positions on uneven floors had done little to alleviate his persistent back pain. 

Ugh. Now he was thinking about that night again. It was fucking pointless. Sebastian couldn't _do_ anything about it, not like he'd want to anyway. Their relationship had been heading to a violent, explosive ending ever since it started. And Jim was _pissed_. Sebastian had never seen him that angry, not at home, anyway. And even at work, it was quiet, contained. From what Sebastian had seen, when Jim Moriarty got angry, he was fucking elegant. When they'd fought he'd been... sloppy.

It wasn't like their other arguments either. Jim had only hit Sebastian during an argument once before last week, when Seb had told Jim he couldn't remember how many times he'd lied to him since they started dating. And then Sebastian had started laughing. And they'd talked about it. And they'd worked it out. And Jim had made Sebastian promise to never let him get violent again. Sebastian snorted. Like that was his fucking responsibility. It didn't matter anyway, Jim had really fucked him up last week. 

…

But it wasn't even the violence!! Jim didn't have anything to say. He'd had no comebacks. He'd just, taken all the shit Sebastian had said. Well, he hadn't responded at least. Maybe he hadn't heard it. Sebastian rubbed his jaw. Those punches landed really loud.

Ugh. Sebastian couldn't lie to himself about that. He _knew_ Jim had heard him. He'd felt the power behind the punches increase when he'd told Jim he was slipping, that if he couldn't realize that his longterm boyfriend was lying about something so obvious, he probably couldn't notice much else either, that he was going soft, that the next time he slipped up he'd probably get Sebastian killed. He'd seen Jim's still-wet eyes glass over when he'd wondered aloud if Jim's mom was about the same age as them when his stepdad started hitting her. He knew Jim had stopped as soon as he'd gone silent. Sebastian laughed. Oh, Jim had been _really_ pissed. Sebastian was surprised there wasn't a hit out on him yet. He snorted. Maybe Jim was waiting to do it himself. 

He finished the cigarette. He pulled out another. He lit it, only second try this time. Fuck. Last time he'd fucked up a relationship this bad he'd just, worked harder, killed people a little bloodier. It was kind of hard to do that now, when the person he'd fucked things up with was also his boss. Whatever. Jim fucking Moriarty. He'd be dead within a week. A godsend, honestly. Jim hadn't even let him take his fucking wallet. He'd just, stood up, looked away, and told Sebastian to get out. And then changed the locks. And installed deadbolts. And had his fucking car towed. 

Sebastian didn't wanna think about this, it didn't fucking matter! Jim was fucking unstable. So was he, but nowhere near as bad as Jim. Jim almost fucking killed him, for fuck's sake. Over what? His fucking cat? It wasn't like Sebastian had actually hurt it. It was just a fucking joke. He didn't need to take it so seriously. He'd just been bored. It was just a joke.

.

"Hi!" Jim shut the door and took off his shoes before walking into the apartment. "How was your day? Seb?" 

Sebastian heard Jim check the living room. He was sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the door in front of him, waiting for Jim. He had no fucking idea if this would work out. Footsteps. Another "Sebastian?". The door opened. Sebastian stared into Jim's chest. His suit was grey today, designer, obviously.

"Seb?"

"I killed the cat." 

He didn't have to look at Jim. He knew the the face he was making. He could _feel_ him blinking. 

"What?" 

Sebastian looked up. Jim obviously didn't believe him. His face was, almost blank, his eyes were fucking piercing though, scanning Sebastian, and his eyebrows were threatening to knit themselves together. This wasn't going to fucking work. 

"I killed our cat." He repeated, dead.

Jim's eyes bore into his. "You're lying."

Sebastian didn't say anything. He held eye contact. Something shifted in Jim's expression. Fuck, he didn't actually believe him, did he?

"You're fucking lying. Show me the body, Sebastian."

Oh, interesting. Sebastian laughed. "Sorry sweetheart, there wasn't much left." 

Jim's eye twitched. He raised his voice. "What do you mean there wasn't much left?"

"I mean there wasn't much fucking left Jim. Don't worry-" He smiled, his lips curving in the unnatural way he'd seen his boyfriend's do so many times. "I drugged her first. She probably didn't feel it."

Jim's hands were shaking now. "Sebastian, tell me that you're fucking lying. Tell me where you're hiding my fucking cat." he whispered.

Sebastian blinked at him. "Jim, I fucking told you, I killed her. I fed her rohypnol and I dropped her out the window and then I fucking shot her. I drove her out to the Thames so you wouldn't have to look at her broken little body. Think of it as a courtesy."

Jim's eyes were watery. "You're lying. You're fucking lying to me. You fucking-" his voice broke. "You fucking _didn't_ , you-" 

"I'm telling you that I fucking did Jim. Why the fuck would I lie about this?" He was sneering up at him. "You're a fucking genius, you'd know if I was shitting you. It's your fucking job isnt it?" Jim looked like he'd checked the fuck out. He was looking through Sebastian blankly. 

"There's no body?"

Sebastian looked at him like he was nuts. "I just told you I dumped it in the Thames."

"Her."

"Well she's fucking dead Jim, it doesnt matter much anymore- are you fucking crying?!" That didn't happen easily. That didn't happen, ever, at all. He felt, somewhere, like he shouldn't be a dick about it. 

Jim stared back at him like he was stupid, tears slowly welling up in his eyes. "You tortured and killed my fucking cat and I can't even fucking bury her," he murmured, half to himself as much as Sebastian.

Sebastian snorted. "What, you wanna hold a fucking funeral?"

Jim looked hurt. "Fucking, yes!" He choked out. "She's our fucking pet Sebastian! She's thirteen! She's, she was, was thirteen." 

"You only had her for five months." 

"She wasn't just mine."

Tears were actually falling now. Jim's voice was hoarse, he probably had a lump in his throat. Didn't want to be crying. Couldn't fucking hold it back. Confused, mostly. Too confused to be angry. He looked like he might faint.

This wasn't fun anymore.

Sebastian sighed and stood up. "I'm kidding. She's in my car, Jim."

Jim stopped crying almost immediately. "What?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "God you're thick." He brushed past him, grabbing his keys off the counter before he went down to his car. He was up again in less than a minute, carrying their cat in his arms, very much alive. "See?" He said, voice taunting. "It was a fucking joke." 

Jim was standing five feet from the door when he came in, back straight, blank expression. He took the cat immediately, petting her, feeling for her heartbeat, making sure she was okay. He cooed at her. And then he let her down in the bedroom. He closed the door gently. He looked at Sebastian with pure, unbridled malice in his eyes. 

And then he'd started hitting him

.

So it was a shitty joke. Not a funny joke. But Jim still didn't have to whale on him for two fucking minutes. Sebastian scowled. They were better off apart, anyways. They were fucking horrible for eachother. ...He'd been saying that to himself all week and it hadn't quite taken yet, but he was close to believing it. Part of him knew that there was no way he was thinking rationally - he'd smoked a lot more than he'd eaten this past week, and he was fucking exhausted. It was hard to think at all right now, let alone critically. He needed to sleep in a bed. He pulled another drag off his cigarette. He needed a fucking shower.

He heard tires. He whipped his head to the side. His head swam. It was fine, he was just a little dizzy. A car was rolling up into the alley. Fucking, great. This was it, he was going to get pumped full of holes and have his head sent on a silver platter to his maybe-ex-but-never-officially-broke-up-boyfriend. Who was also his boss. Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Death was not unwelcome right now, considering his relationship status, living situation and state of employment.

The car pulled up a few feet away from him and parked. Sebastian glared at it. 

Jim stepped out.

It wasn't _exactly_ what Sebastian was expecting, but he wasn't particularly surprised. What was surprising was how, bad Jim looked. No sunglasses. Dark bags under his eyes. Stubble - especially weird, Jim wouldn't leave the house unless he was clean shaven. His hair was unkempt. He wasn't even wearing a suit. He had jeans on underneath his coat. Sebastian couldn't see Jim's shirt but he'd put money on it being one of _his_ old t-shirts. Jim wore them all the fucking time. He met Sebastian's eyes. Looks could be deceiving, especially with Jim, but he didn't look like he was ready to kill. Emotionally, at least. Jim walked over to the dumpster Sebastian was leaning on, frowning at the snow that was ruining his designer shoes. He stopped about a meter away from Sebastian. 

"Hi," he said, almost, sadly.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him. "Here to finish me off?" He asked, bitterly. He could see the snow falling onto Jim's hair from here, the stark contrast between the deep brown and the freshly fallen snowflakes was mesmerizing. It was… beautiful. Fuck, no, fuck that. It would've been, if Sebastian had been able to notice beauty in his numbed out headspace.

Jim frowned. He kicked at the snow, eyes trailing down from Sebastian's face to his shoes. "...I thought you quit," he spat, eventually.

Sebastian snorted. "I did! But then, you know, my boyfriend beat me up and kicked me out of our apartment and wouldnt let me in to get any of my shit so I've been living on the streets in the middle of fucking January for the past week and a half. So I figured I deserved a little treat." He took a drag and blew it in Jim's face.

Jim wrinkled his nose, but stayed silent. He stared back at Sebastian, narrowing his eyes, probably trying to figure out what Seb had been doing for the past nine days, what kind of mood he was in. God, what a fucking prick. Sebastian wished he'd just get it over with and shoot him. He flicked some ash off the end of his cigarette and glared back.

"...come home." Oh, unexpected. But that didn't mean that everything was rainbows and daisies. The world was still a horrible place, nothing really mattered and Jim was the same manipulative sadist he'd always been. Sebastian laughed.

"Uh, no. No thank you Jim." 

Jim seemed pretty unphased. He wasn't an idiot, he knew Sebastian wasn't going to come easy. At all. Sebastian had to remember that he was better off in this alley. He was better off here!! He hated Jim now, he didn't want to be in his life. He, hm. Sebastian was distracted by looking at Jim. He had this weird expression on his face, something like, remorse? But that was fucking impossible. Jim inhaled deeply, then looked directly into Sebastian's eyes.

"I'm sorry I hit you. I shouldn't get angry at you like that, and I shouldn't have gotten violent. It won't happen again." 

Sebastian snorted. "Of course it's not gonna fucking happen again, I'm not coming back with you. I am _perfectly_ comfortable here." He gestured to the snow covered dumpster.

Jim's face crumpled for a split second, but then the annoyed, blank expression was up again. "Sebastian-"

"Jim, I'm not an idiot. Abusers don't change. _You_ don't change." He looked away. "I should've known you'd end up like your stepdad." A low blow. But Sebastian really didn't fucking care. He looked back at Jim, if Sebastian's comment had hurt him at all his face didnt show it- he was still looking back at Sebastian like he was trying to read his mind. Jim cleared his throat.

"You're being absurd. Its twenty below and you don't even have a coat. Come home, if you stay out here you'll get sick." 

Sebastian frowned. "That's- I do! This is my coat." He gripped the thin material and pulled it away from his chest for Jim to see. "And don't try to use logic with me, it's not going to work, I'm not coming back."

Jim looked at the bloody windbreaker with disgust. "That is nowhere near warm enough." His eyes found Sebastian's again. "I'm not going to force you to come back. I just, I really think you should."

"Oh? Why is that?" Sebastian narrowed his eyes at Jim. "Don't say it's cause you love me. You're fucking incapable of feeling."

Jim winced. It was hardly noticeable, but Sebastian caught it. Jim sighed. "Because it's cold out here, and I know you're not going to go to your mom's. You look like shit Sebastian, if you stay out here for another day you're gonna end up in the hospital." Jim hesitated. His tone changed. "...and I miss you. And I _do_ love y-"

"God, you don't fucking listen do you?" Sebastian wasn't really sure what his argument was anymore. Home was actually, sounding kind of nice. He could charge his phone, he could drink tea. He could shower. He could cook again. If only he didn't live there. "I'm not going back with you. I don't like you anymore. You're toxic, Jim."

"We had one fight Sebastian, we've fought before, we work it out."

"Yeah, well, usually you don't try to kill me."

Silence. Jim looked at the ground. He was fiddling with his coat sleeve. 

"...I know. I know I don't. I fucked up last week." His fingers stopped. Suddenly dark eyes were boring into Sebastian again. "It will never happen again. I promise."

He meant that. Sebastian felt it in his gut. Jim _meant_ that. 

"Bullshit."

Jim frowned. "How much sleep have you been getting?" He asked, forcing a casual tone.

Sebastian scowled. "Don't change the subject." Jim was looking, fuzzy. A little blurry. Kind of like, a water colour painting? The snow was blurring into his hair and the wall behind him was melting into his coat. Sebastian shook his head. His vision cleared, slightly. The world was still swimming in front of him. Nothing really made sense right now. He couldn't make out Jim's expression, was he, frowning? He was maybe frowning. A hand reached out and plucked the cigarette from Sebastian's hand. He grabbed for it, but he missed. 

"What the fuck happened to your reflexes?" Jim asked, taking a pull off of Sebastian's dart. He grimaced.

"I, what do you mean? Give that back!" Sebastian swiped for the cigarette again, but Jim was too far away.

"You're fucking slow. You almost certainly haven't been sleeping at all. And this?" He took another drag, winced, and then held up the cigarette. "This is what you're replacing me with? This is fucking garbage. It tastes like shit and it gives you cancer."

"It's an… acquired taste. If you don't like it, give it back." Fuck, he felt dizzy. Jim gave him a look.

"Are you okay? Bab- Seb, you look like you're about to throw up. Please let me take you home."

Sebastian's vision went black around the edges. " _Maybe_ ," he muttered, before slumping against the dumpster.

.

When Seb woke up, it felt normal. 

He was in his bed, in his apartment. He was wearing his clothes, not exactly what he would normally wear to bed, and they smelled like shit, but they were his. He was really fucking hungry, and he had a headache that made it hard to see. He thought about rolling over and trying to sleep it off, and he would have, if he hadn't remembered that _he wasn't supposed to be there_. He sat up abruptly and fuck that hurt. He hissed and leaned back against the headboard, trying to stop the room from spinning. What was he even doing here? He needed some fucking aspirin.

He thought about calling Jim. Forcing him to fess up and tell Sebastian everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, how he'd gotten from a dive somewhere in the east end back to their apartment, how Jim had managed to convince him. He wouldn't. It was a bad idea. He'd been, mean last week. Worse than he usually got. Sebastian shut his eyes and breathed. He could try to remember yesterday. He could do that. 

He'd been hanging out at that pub for about three hours, it was, four am maybe? Five? He was going to crash in the bathroom but he got kicked out after he punched the bartender. So he'd, gone on a walk? Yeah, he'd gone on a walk, for… a really long time. All the bars had closed and any place that was open wouldn't let him in looking and smelling the way he did. So he'd walked till it got light out, found an alley and-

Oh. He had been, really fucking mean. He was here though, which meant that Jim wasn't mad. Wasn't, _that_ mad. Not pissed enough to kill him, at any rate. Sebastian registered for the first time that it was, really fucking dark. He'd slept all day. Shit. He had to piss, really fucking bad, and he couldn't remember the last time he ate something. He pushed himself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, too fucking foggy to even register the floor in front of him. He made it to the toilet by grace of muscle memory. 

He pissed and wandered back to bed. The tv was on. Maybe Jim had fallen asleep on the couch? Too upset to sleep next to Sebastian then, not a good sign. Sebastian closed the door to the bedroom and took off his jeans, leaving them on the floor. He crawled back into bed and closed his eyes. No way he could fucking cook like this. 

He heard the tv shut off. Then he heard the soft padding of Jim's feet growing steadily louder. Then, the door creaking open. A clear, quiet voice, barely louder than a whisper. 

"Sebastian?"

Sebastian didn't respond. Jim was quiet for a few beats, listening.

"...are you hungry?" 

Sebastian kept his eyes closed. He was. He didn't want to make Jim do anything for him though. He hesitated.

"...yeah." God, his voice sounded hoarse. The door closed gently and Sebastian was alone in the dark again. He was still dead exhausted and the bed felt fucking heaven after sleeping on the floor for nine days. It was, so soft. Now that he'd pissed he could probably fall asleep again, but he wanted food. Fuck, what he wouldn't give for a fucking steak right now. Or a fruit salad. Or one of those greasy cheeseburgers from the diner Jim refused to be seen in. Or, literally any food. It occurred to him, suddenly, that Jim couldn't cook. He'd help Sebastian sometimes, he do exactly what Seb told him to do down to the most minute detail and still be scared he'd fuck it up. ...Sebastian was probably getting toast. Or maybe, take out? He sat up and looked around for his phone. It was charging on the bedside table. He picked it up. The screen read 2:30. Oh. So he'd slept for, nineteen hours. And he definitely wasn't getting take out. He lay back down and closed his eyes.

He'd dozed off. When he woke up, there was a hand on his shoulder, pulling him gently into a sitting position and another handing him a bowl full of something warm. The lamp flickered on. Jim was standing next to it, still in his clothes. He hadn't been sleeping, even though he was being driven around at six in the morning yesterday looking for Sebastian. His face was drawn, exhausted. He was, in fact, wearing one of Sebastian's tshirts, a faded peanuts one with Woodstock on the front. The circles under his eyes looked darker.

"Do you need anything else?" Sebastian was caught of guard by Jim's voice. He stared at him for a few seconds before clearing his throat and answering. 

"Water, please. Maybe an Asprin." Jim nodded and left the room. Sebastian looked down at his bowl. It was, some kind of pasta. Jim reentered with a painkiller and a glass of water, which he set on the nightstand before turning to go. Sebastian didn't want him to leave. But he wasn't really in a place to make Jim stay, either.

"What's this?" He called softly. Jim turned around, confused. "What did you make me?" Sebastian clarified.

Jim flushed, just barely. "It's buttered noodles." He frowned. "Are they bad? I could make you a sandwich, if you'd prefer that. I just thought you'd want something hot."

Sebastian had a forkful. They were pretty good. Nothing to write home about. But the fact that Jim had made them for him, without Sebastian even asking, when he hated cooking made them, really fucking special. He had another bite, piling the pasta onto his fork this time. "No, no it's good Jim. It's perfect." He shoveled more into his mouth, chewing as fast as he possibly could. 

Jim didn't cook. At all. And he ignored his body at the best of times, Sebastian had given him shit for forgetting to eat breakfast more times than he could count. This last week he'd been upset and without Sebastian, and obviously he could handle himself, he'd done it before, but. 

"What have you been eating this week?" Sebastian asked, staring at the bowl, eyes purposely avoiding Jim's, resolutely not asking if he had been eating. No answer. He saw Jim shrug in his peripheral. Sebastian chewed and swallowed his mouthful and glanced up at Jim. He looked, kinda fucked up. And… awkward.

"I can go, if you want." 

What? "...Do you want to go?"

Jim was silent again. Sebastian couldn't fucking read him!! He twirled the pasta around his fork absentmindedly. He gave Jim a little half smile and held the fork out to him. "Want some?"

Jim might've been, surprised? Sebastian didn't think he'd ever seen that look before. He hesitated, biting his lip ever so slightly, before moving towards the bed. "Yeah," he mumbled. He took the fork and sat down next to Sebastian, his face twisting into a grimace. 

Sebastian frowned. "What's wrong?"

Jim forced the expression from his face. "Oh, you just… smell. Like shit." He shoved the pasta in his mouth and then handed the fork back to Sebastian. 

Sebastian laughed. Probably his first genuine laugh since last week. It trailed off quickly though. He shoved the pasta around in the bowl a bit. "...I know. I'll shower after food."

Jim nodded. He was looking down at his hands. He just looked, blank. Numbed out. Not a good look on him. Or a familiar one. Sebastian just wanted to know how he was fucking feeling. But he couldn't really, ask. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to do that right now. His gaze fell to Jim's thigh. Sebastian, wanted to touch him. Nine days wasn't the longest they'd gone without touching each other, but the last time they'd had skin to skin contact it hadn't exactly been, affectionate. He was just about to reach out when Jim spoke.

"Are you almost done?" 

Sebastian felt his heart fall. "Oh, uh, almost." He shoveled the rest of the pasta into his mouth and then handed the bowl back to Jim. "Here."

Jim took the bowl and stood up. "I'm gonna go sleep on the couch. You should try to sleep until it's morning, at least. Do you need anything else?" 

_You. In bed, with me, like before. Or just, to stay a little longer. Until I pass out, at least. Or just to touch me, that'd be nice, you know, kiss my forehead, play with my hair, smile at me, laugh at me, call me an idiot but without any venom behind it_. Sebastian shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."

Jim nodded and slipped out the door. Sebastian suddenly felt like he was never gonna see him again. He panicked. "I love you!" He called, slightly frantic.

Jim hadn't quite pulled the door shut. He sighed. "I know," he said, gently. He paused for a moment, then sighed again. "I love you too." He shut the door. Sebastian felt like shit but he _wasn't_ going to let go of his feelings again. He turned off the lamp and lay down, closing his eyes and trying, desperately, to fall back asleep.

When he woke up the sun wasn't quite up yet. It was just after six. He grabbed some of his clothes from the dresser - Jim hadn't thrown anything out. Or, ripped anything up. The stuff that had been in the dirty laundry when Jim kicked him out was folded, neatly, in stark contrast to the rest of the shit in his drawers. That hurt, kind of a lot. 

He was still fucking starving, if anything it was worse than before. But, considering Jim's reaction to him last night, it would probably be a good idea to shower before he touched anything in the apartment. He walked out of the bedroom, unable to ignore Jim passed out on the couch still. Sebastian walked towards him. He wasn't sure, why he was doing it. It was just a gut reaction. He kneeled down by the couch. ...Jim looked bad. He'd looked shit yesterday, and the night before, but that was from five feet away. Up close he looked, particularly broken. Sleeping he looked, particularly vulnerable. It was too much. Sebastian stood up and walked to the bathroom. 

The shower was fucking heavenly. Sebastian turned the water up until it was just below scalding. The pressure felt amazing on his back, soothing the tension in his muscles. When he'd gotten in, the water ran grey. It hadn't ran clear until he'd scrubbed everything twice. He probably spent about five minutes washing his hair, despite the fact that it was quite short. It just felt so fucking good. He stepped out after a half hour, clean. God, clean was something he totally took for granted. He got dressed and brushed his teeth until his mouth was overflowing with toothpaste froth. 

When he went out into the kitchen he immediately glanced at the couch. Jim hadn't even moved. Sebastian sighed. He wasn't sure if it was with relief or sorrow. He needed to do something. He needed, to be distracted. Food. He was hungry, he could cook. He checked the fridge. Jim hadn't gone shopping since he'd kicked Sebastian out. Seb cleaned out the stuff that had expired and surveyed what they had left. He could do, eggs? Pancakes? Banana pancakes? Jim liked those. Mmm, bananas were gone. Most of the fruit was gone. Something relaxed inside Sebastian. So Jim had been eating. It was probably fir the better that the fruit was gone, it wouldn't have lasted for nine days in the fruit bowl. He'd make omelet. 

He did. He lost himself in it. It made him feel better. 

Jim was still asleep when he finished. He made coffee. He did Jim's milk as close to perfect as he could get it. He brought one of the omelets and a full mug over to the coffee table. He watched Jim sleeping for a minute, scared to disturb him. But his breakfast was getting cold. He reached out and gently shook Jim. "Hey, Jim? There's coffee."

Jim started, eyes flying open and his hand diving under the pillow. He pulled out a gun and pointed it at Sebastian, moving remarkably fast for someone who'd just woken up. Sebastian lifted his hands slowly away from his boyfriend, holding them up in the air. "...Hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Jim's face went through a number of different expressions in the space of a second before settling on one that looked only a little bit anxious. His breathing was just a little erratic.

"Oh," Jim breathed out. His entire body was seized up. He seemed to realize that he was holding Sebastian at gunpoint after a few beats, his mouth falling slightly agape in shock. He flicked the safety back on and hurriedly placed it on the couch beside him. "Sorry."

Sebastian, didn't really know what to say. He lowered his hands slowly. "It's okay," he offered. Fuck, he wished he could hug Jim. "There's coffee? And eggs."

Jim nodded slowly and took the coffee carefully. "...thanks."

Sebastian watched him sip the coffee. He felt, awkward. Sitting there and staring at Jim, not touching him. He was scared to push too hard but like, he couldn't do nothing.

"Hey, uh, can I sit with you?" Sebastian asked, surprising himself.

Jim blinked. "Yeah?" he said, as if the question didn't need to be asked.

Sebastian opened his mouth, then closed it again. "I'm gonna go get my coffee," he said, gesturing to the kitchen. He stood up and grabbed his breakfast, returning to the living room to sit next to Jim on the couch. Jim had finished half the coffee but hadn't touched the omelet. Fucking typical.

"You should probably eat something too," Sebastian suggested, his mouth full.

Jim frowned. "You think so?" He asked, sarcasm creeping into his tone.

 _Shit_. "I- yeah." _Don't just say that, idiot_. "...Are you mad at me?"

Jim set his coffee down on the table and _glared_ at Sebastian. "You would know if I was mad, Seb."

Would he?? Cause Jim seemed pretty mad, but apparently he wasn't? Sebastian was fucking bad at this. "Okay. Uh-" he sipped his coffee, thinking. "How are you feeling?"

Jim stabbed at his omelet. Sebastian watched as he took a bite, chewed, and swallowed, his eyebrows knitting together in thought. "Honestly? I don't know," Jim muttered bitterly.

What did that mean??? "What does that mean?"

Jim glared at Sebastian again. His eyes were, tired. Sebastian felt bad for pushing. "I don't know what it means, Sebastian. I don't know how I'm supposed to fucking feel right now, okay?" Hm. Soft voice. Very tired, probably more tired than, anything else. Sebastian nodded.

"Okay. I'll drop it." He would let there be a little bit of silence. He could eat, Jim could eat, they could talk about it later. He sighed and went back to his omelet. Something mewed and brushed up against his leg. He froze.

He hadn't seen her yet. She'd probably been curled up on top of Jim all night, or prowling around in his office. Kept out of sight and earshot when Sebastian was in the kitchen. Sebastian watched, petrified, as Jim scooped her up off the ground and held her in his lap. He had another bite of omelet like everything was normal, fine, like Sebastian hadn't fucking pretended she was dead last week for a laugh. 

...Huh. He still hadn't apologized for that. Or for any of the things he'd said to Jim. Jim had, though. Apologized. Jim never apologized first. 

Sebastian cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on the cat in Jim's lap. "I'm sorry," he said. He had to force himself to look up into Jim's eyes. "For pretending that I killed our cat. And for saying all of that bullshit about you slipping, it isn't true." He paused. "And Jim, I'm really sorry for telling you you're ending up like your stepd-"

"It's fine, Sebastian. I know you are." Jim cut him off. Sebastian frowned.

"Jim, I was a fucking asshole, you deserve an apology."

Jim laughed softly. "That's very sweet of you, but I'm fine. I told you, I'm not pissed at you anymore." He was stroking their cat absentmindedly. Sebastian's eyes got lost in the way Jim's fingers would disappear into her fur for a moment when he let his hand slide down her back. At first, the sound of her purring reminded him of how guilty he felt, how fucking stupid he was. And then it just faded back into white noise. He wanted to apologize. He wanted Jim to know that he wasn't really that mad anymore. He wanted Jim to promise that this would never happen again. ...Jim had already promised that, and Sebastian had told him it was bullshit. He sighed. He missed Jim.

Sebastian bristled as something soft walked into his lap and lay down there. Did he get to have the cat in his lap? He looked frantically up at Jim, but he was just watching the cat lazily. Unreadable expression. "Is it okay, if I pet her?" He asked, quietly.

Jim looked up at Sebastian. "Yes. She's _our _cat." So, he wasn't going to address th- "And you didn't hurt her. She was just a little chilly from sitting in the car."__

____

Sebastian nodded solemnly. Ugh. There had to be a way to fix this shit. He reached out, slowly, to give their cat ear scritches. She started purring and rubbed against his hand. Sebastian started to pet her gently, really fucking careful to not even nudge her off his lap. He felt Jim's eyes on him. 

____

"I forgive you," Jim said, quietly. Sebastian immediately looked up at him. Jim was watching his hands on the cat. "I know you were in a weird headspace, and I deserved all the shit you said to me yesterday."

____

Sebastian frowned. "Jim…"

____

"I could've done so many things to make that easier for you, and I didn't. You didn't even have a fucking coat."

____

"You know I wouldn't have accepted anything anyways, Jim. You still came to get me."

____

Jim was poking at the remnants of his omelet. "Well, obviously. There was never any question of whether I was coming to get you or not."

____

That was, surprising. "Really?"

____

Jim looked at Sebastian like he was insane. "I love you, Sebastian, I would never let you go like that."

____

He'd said I love you. And he'd meant it. Sebastian lifted the cat off of his lap very carefully. "Hey, c'mere." He held his arms out to Jim. Jim looked at him for a moment, a little bit incredulous, and then crawled over to him. Sebastian lay back against the armrest. Jim's face was against his neck. Their legs were tangled together. Sebastian had his arms wrapped tightly around Jim's waist. He could smell Jim's soap. "I love you," he whispered. He felt Jim smile against his neck. 

____

"I know," Jim replied. "I love you too."

____


End file.
